


Devil in Disguise

by bushidobunny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Biblical References, Blow Jobs, But he is a manipulative bastard, Dean makes horrible life choices, Destiel - Freeform, Dom Lucifer, Dominance, Drinking, Drinking Games, Excessive Drinking, Hand Jobs, Implied Destiel - Freeform, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Look At Your Life Look At Your Choices, Lucifer can be kinda cute when he is being manipulative, Lucifer is a Little Shit, Lucifer is kind of rapey- fair warning, M/M, Masturbation, Mental Coercion, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Poor Life Choices, Sexual Coercion, Submission, self hate
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-21 18:05:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7397923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bushidobunny/pseuds/bushidobunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucifer is very personally aware of all of Castiel's desires and secrets. No matter how well hidden they were from his friends. </p><p>Pursuing them for himself is merely doing his host a favor for his gracious hospitality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forbidden Fruit

**Author's Note:**

> (( If it was not obvious, Season 11 spoilers. Sort of. ))
> 
> (( This will be a multi-chapter fanfiction. I have not decided how many chapters there will be, however.))
> 
> (( I am aware that this is quite short, but it is just an introduction. Following chapters will be longer and have far more substance. I assure you.))
> 
> (( Strap in. ))

Dean rubbed his fingers into small circles on his temples, trying to ease the pounding rhythm of blood that pulsed through them as he focused on the dusty text in front of him. It was hard enough to study the volumes of lore that the Men of Letters had left, but it had become next to impossible with Lucifer and Chuck hanging around - bickering and airing out the family’s dirty laundry right in the middle of the Winchester’s living room. 

To make matters worse, the fallen angel was currently leaning up against the open archway of the study, noisily crunching into a bright red apple and watching Dean study as one might watch an ape at the zoo. 

After a few more minutes of staring directly at the page without truly taking in anything it said Dean’s attention was pulled away from the book as Lucifer pushed himself off the wall, walking the few paces to the rubbish bin to drop his apple core into the midst of discarded paper and candy wrappers. 

“You know,” mused the devil as he began to delicately lick the juices from his fingers in an altogether far too vulgar and seductive way. “There are more entertaining ways to pass the time, Dean.”

“What the hell, man? No. I don't have time for this. Or have you forgotten about the Darkness? Ya know, soul eating psychopath? God’s brat sister? The only reason you are here.” came the Hunter’s snapped reply, emerald eyes flashing upward angrily. “Make yourself useful - pick up a book or get out.”

The grin that spread across Castiel’s familiar lips was far too toothy and sinister, sapphire eyes shining with glee and malicious intent. The sight truly shook Dean to the core - so clearly being able to see Lucifer wearing his dearest friend as nothing more than a meat suit. 

Cass was in there, somewhere. But trying to reach him was like talking on a dead phone. Lucifer’s hold was far too strong and Castiel had submitted completely to his influence. 

“Don't pretend that you have not considered it. Your angel certainly has.” Lucifer said with wicked satisfaction, bouncing on his heels playfully as he crossed the space between them - chuckling darkly at the wide eyed look that the human gave him. In the span of a few heartbeats Lucifer was pushing Dean’s chair away from the table with a simple snap of his fingers, leaning forward to let his hands - Castiel’s hands - rest on the lapels of Dean's faded leather jacket, his face uncomfortably close to Dean’s which had become suddenly flushed and slack jawed in surprise. “I knew that humans were dense, but I must say that I thought more highly of your intelligence. My mistake, obviously.”

He was too close but the Hunter was frozen where he sat, unable to push him away. Dean could feel each puff of warm breath, there was still the smell of rain and spring that he had come to associate with Castiel, but it was faint; muted and subdued. Instead he was engulfed in the far more potent smell of summer heat, cinnamon and sand. It was garish and harsh, so different from the gentle and welcoming presence that he had grown accustomed to and longed for even. But he could not say that it was unappealing in it's own right.

He knew though that it was only appealing in the same way that a man dying of thirst in the barren wastes of a desert may cling to the illusion of an oasis. The rippled air, manipulated by intense heat and sunlight giving him hope - only to be tortured and broken when the vision stays forever on the horizon. 

The Hunter found that he could not match Lucifer’s gaze for long, his eyes flitting away from the far too blue pools which he had become so accustomed to over the years. But they were different now. Castiel’s eyes were vividly blue, pools of mountain spring water... but these eyes… with the force of Lucifer himself behind them were far more like an ocean -mysterious, dark and hiding unknown terrors… monsters in the depths. 

“You’re lying.” Dean replied softly as he focused his gaze instead on the hand smoothing out the leather on his chest. 

“I am many things, Dean Winchester. A liar is not one of them. I have never lied to you.” Lucifer mused as he brought that hand upward, resting one finger beneath Dean’s chin to force his gaze back upward. 

Lucifer leaned forward, scarcely grazing his lips against the human’s when he recoiled suddenly, a mildly pained look on his face. He chuckled darkly and muttered to himself, “Down boy.” 

He glanced at Dean, his eyebrow quirked and explained, “Apparently, your dear Castiel does not like sharing his toys... To be continued, Dean.”

With that Lucifer turned on his heel, Castiel’s trench coat swirling behind him as he walked briskly from the room, leaving Dean alone and perplexed among the stacks of biblical lore that littered the table and floor around him.


	2. A Deal With The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is having a hard time coming to terms with the day's previous events. Maybe hashing things out with Sam will help him wrap his head around it.
> 
> Then again, maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( A special thanks to my beta reader - Cockleslovin - who definitely helped as I made sense of my shenanigans thought process ))

Dean paced back and forth at the foot of Sam’s bed, practically wearing out the threads of the rug that covered the polished wooden floor. His hands were currently in his hair, fingers laced together as he repeatedly shook his head in disbelief.

It had only been a matter of an hour since his unwelcome and deeply disturbing interaction with Lucifer. Most of that time had been spent trying to convince himself that what he had experienced was just an illusion. A trick of the mind. But Dean knew better and the reality of his situation was far more troublesome to him than it would be if he had began hallucinating. At his realization that he had definitely been come onto by the devil himself Dean had quickly tracked down Sam for some much needed advice.

“And then he tried to kiss me, Sam. Like full on, on the lips kiss me. Guess Cass stopped him from doing it, but that doesn't mean he didn't try.” he finished with a disgusted glance at his younger brother who had cast aside the book he was reading and instead sat cross-legged on the bed, rapturously listening to Dean’s story, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly agape. 

“Wow.” Sam’s brows raised until they were practically flush with his hairline. The diminutive response to his story was something that Dean could deal with but when a soft chuckle of amusement left the younger hunter’s lips Dean rounded on him angrily. 

“And what the Hell are you laughin’ at? I don't see anything funny here.” he snapped, effectively wiping the slight grin off of Sam’s face. 

Sam lifted his hands up in mock surrender before elaborating, “I know. I know. It really isn't funny. Kind of terrifying, really. And believe me, I get it. You are not the only one in this room that Lucifer has taken a _special interest_ in before.”

“I could deal with it if it was just Lucifer, Sam. Take everything he says as total bullshit, get a spray bottle of holy water and get him to back off like teaching a cat to stay off the fucking counter.” Dean brought one of his hands forward, rubbing his face wearily before adding with a dejected sigh, “But he is using Cass as a meat suit, man. He says that Cass is like… _Into me,_ or whatever. What the Hell is all that about?” 

Dean’s eyes narrowed dangerously as Sam responded with a very slow shrug and a tentative, “He has always expressed that he feels an _incredibly profound bond_ with you…” in his own defense he quickly added, “I am not saying that is what is going on. And we both know that Lucifer is a manipulative son of a bitch and we shouldn't believe anything he says. I was merely being a devil’s advocate.”

“He sure as shit don't need anyone advocating for him, Sam.” Dean snapped sarcastically. 

“You know what I mean. I am just saying that weirder shit has happened to us than the possibility of Castiel thinking of you in a night time television sort of way.” Sam quickly cleared his throat to prevent himself from chuckling at his own joke and risk any further anger from his older brother. “If he keeps at it, you could always tell Chuck what he is doing” Sam added as almost an afterthought.

 

Dean tilted his head and raised a brow before asking in a voice that was positively dripping in sarcasm, “You are suggesting that I tattle on _Satan_ to his _Daddy_ ?”

Sam scrunched his nose slightly, nodding briefly, “I am just saying to keep it as a solid ‘Plan B’. I mean, he is going to be around for awhile. At least until we finish off The Darkness and figure out how to get Cass back. And unfortunately this gig does not really come with an HR department to handle sexual harassment issues.” 

“Don't.” Dean snapped harshly, pointing a finger threateningly into Sam’s face. “Do. Not. Call it that.”

“Okay, okay. You are definitely _not_ being sexually harassed by Lucifer. Let me know how all that denial works out for you, okay?”

-o-o-o-

To say that Dean had been on edge would have been an understatement. He had found himself checking around corners and looking over his shoulder all day since his unsavory interaction with the Prince of Darkness. 

Which was quite honestly, _infuriating_ for him.

Dean Winchester was not some cowardly douchebag. He had proudly charged, guns blazing, into countless vamp nests and werewolf dens. He took on the Mark of Cain. He had died more times than he honestly could remember. 

Yet, here he was, acting like some kind of puss because of one little kiss. 

Granted… that kiss was from Lucifer. 

He took a single deep breath, shaking his head physically to rid himself of the nervous thoughts that had been dogging his steps all afternoon. _‘You are being ridiculous. Even if he wanted to try somethin’ sketchy there is no way in Hell Cass would let him. All of this is just to mess with your head.’_

It was sound enough logic for him and made his nervousness seem almost laughable. There is no way that Castiel would surrender his vessel for something like that. He would definitely fight it. 

_‘Unless he can't stop it.’_ his mind supplied darkly.

He opened the fridge with a sigh and bent down to snag one of the cold beers off the bottom shelf when he heard an all too familiar voice behind him, “Hello Dean.”

He snapped upright and turned sharply when he heard the deep and gravelly greeting. But the grin that had spread across his face at the thought of his best friend being there in all of his glorious, dorky and overpowering awkwardness was short lived when he was greeted instead by a defiantly quirked brow and bitten lip. 

“Lighten up, Winchester. I was merely trying to make you more comfortable. Give you a sense of… familiarity.” Lucifer gestured in a casual manner with his hands as he spoke, his voice was once again at a far more natural octave for the vessel, all evidence of Castiel all but completely shrouded by Lucifer’s presence. 

Lucifer took a few steps forward, swagger and confidence evident in each step he took towards the Hunter, stopping only when he was directly in front of Dean. “Are you not going to be polite enough to offer me a drink? My, my, my. _Didn't your mother raise you better than that?"_

At the jab Lucifer brought one hand up to his mouth which he had covered daintily as he let out a mocking gasp. He seemed so satisfied with himself that the wide and toothy grin that spread across his face barely flinched from its place at all when Dean’s clenched fist collided squarely with his mouth. 

Instead he brought forward one finely manicured finger to gingerly wipe away the small trace of crimson blood that oozed from the split in his lip. Sapphire eyes flashed upward to meet Dean’s furious gaze, a genuinely amused chuckle bubbling forth through Lucifer’s bruising lips. He parted those lips ever so slightly, taking the blood soaked tip of his finger between them and sucking it sensually, saying in a breathy whisper, “You sure know how to show a boy a good time, Winchester.”

Dean glanced down at his fist which still remained clenched and white knuckled, a small spatter of blood glistening in the fluorescent light. He took a steadying breath, silently counting to ten in his head to sooth the tumultuous upheaval of emotions that had roiled to the surface of his typically stoic resolve. When he lifted his gaze once again he was almost tempted to throw another punch when he saw that Lucifer’s face was already completely healed. 

In fact, the only things that stopped him from attacking Lucifer with everything he had in that moment was the knowledge that they needed him to fight The Darkness and that he was currently using Castiel’s body as a perverse marionette. 

Lucifer chuckled darkly when the Hunter made no further movement, and stepped around Dean, quickly grabbing a beer for himself and falling into one of the worn kitchen chairs.

He gestured to the chair opposite him with a wave of his hand, “Sit down. Enjoy a beer with me.”

“I don't think so, dude.” Dean replied as he made to stomp haughtily from the room, only to be flung into the indicated chair with a wave of Lucifer's hand. 

“Sit.” Lucifer said softly before adding in a low and condescending command, “Stay.” 

Dean had tried several times to push himself from the chair but found himself stuck, held by an unseeable force. Instead he chose to cross his arms, glaring at the opposite wall and choosing to ignore the fact that Lucifer was staring at him with those too blue eyes while wearing a devious and satisfied smirk as he supplied, “Good boy.”

“I have done nothing _lately_ but attempt to help you and your brethren, Dean. Must you show me such disdain? I have, quite literally, put my life on the line here,” he added with a smirk, once again dropping into Castiel’s low voice, “I have done everything for you, Dean.”

Dean slowly turned his head to glower at the devil sitting next to him, his emerald eyes narrowed viciously in response to the wide grin that he was met with. 

“Stop. You don't get to use that voice. You’re not Cass.”

Lucifer took a few moments to ponder the order that he was given, as if trying to decide whether to concede or fight it before he tilted his head curiously to the side, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lip as he mused, “How about we make a deal, you and I?”

“Deal with the devil? No, thank you. I have already seen how those things turn out. Up close and personal.”

The response was met with a genuine chuckle, a sound that was in itself terrifying, “Not a deal like that, boy. More of a... simple verbal agreement.” Lucifer leaned forward, resting his folded arms on the table and cocking a brow, “I will do my best to refrain from impersonating your angel if you, in turn, are willing to commit to the act of having a drink with me, conversing with me. Once a day while this vessel remains my home.”

“What's the catch?” Dean asked with an irritated sigh. 

“No catch. No fine print. No contract, even. Just a simple agreement between allies. We shall both be getting something we want. No harm in that, correct?”

Dean sat in silence for a few moments before he was pulled from his bitter train of thought by Lucifer extending a hand out towards him. 

“Come on, Dean. Live a little. What is the hang up on a single drink? It is not like you won't be drinking anyway. Might as well be with me. Right, my friend?” He punctuated the sentence by playfully wiggling his fingers in Dean’s direction, silently prompting the human to take them. 

Dean growled deep in his throat, knowing that it was a bad idea even as he extended his own hand, grasping Lucifer’s loosely. He did, however, quickly point the index finger on his free hand directly into Lucifer's face and added sternly, “I am _not_ your friend. Don't think for a second that this is anything other than what it is. My _friend_ is the guy that you are sporting like a K-Mart fashion special, not _you._ You are only here because we need you to help us fight The Darkness. I am only agreeing to this to get you to stop reminding me at every given opportunity that Cass is your bitch.” 

“Noted.” Lucifer conceded, not releasing his grip on Dean's hand, instead shifting his grip to allow him to rub the pad of his thumb along Dean’s bruised knuckles, healing the wounds and leaving a tingling warmth radiating there. “But Dean… do me a small favor.” he then added breathlessly, “Tell me that you need me again, it gives me such warm and fuzzy feelings.”

Dean responded by quickly pulling his hand out of Lucifer’s grasp, causing the fallen angel to laugh loudly, “You need not be so uptight, boy. I am an angel, after all. We are all about consent.”

“I can't honestly say that I feel reassured here.” Dean replied lamely as he took a long drink from his beer, starting the process of his now nightly drink with the Devil, quite ready for it to be over with already. 

“That news bodes well for me, Dean.” Lucifer replied smugly before draining his entire beer in one go and rising from his seat. “If you were reassured it would imply a certainty that you will not provide me with said consent. As it stands, you have given me an _incredibly firm_ ‘maybe'.”

Dean was about to snap an incredibly firm counter to the ludicrous thought, but Lucifer’s finger was brought to his lips in a gentle “shh” and the Hunter found that he was physically unable to even part his lips. Lucifer took a swaggering step forward, ruffling Dean’s hair and quietly sighing into his ear, “Goodnight, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( I hope you all enjoyed the newest chapter. ))
> 
> (( I must admit that I had a ton of fun writing this. ))
> 
> (( I think I am hilarious. Which is good because that means that none of you have to be burdened with the responsibility of laughing at my jokes. ))
> 
> (( As always, feel free to comment and critique! ))


	3. Isaiah 13:10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean is having a hard time processing the day's events. Perhaps things will make more sense after a night of rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( Lucifer is a little shit. That is all. ))

Dean sat on the thick comforter that covered his mattress, leaning heavily against the headboard, his eyes glazed and unfocused as he stared at his knuckles which had so recently been split open. The skin was fully healed, no physical evidence of the altercation he had with Lucifer remaining on the lightly tanned skin. They were even quite possibly in better condition than they had been before he had punched the fallen angel in the mouth. 

Try as he might he could not forget the feeling of warmth and electricity that had radiated through them as Lucifer gently ran his thumb along the busted knuckles. The electric feeling itself had faded quickly, but there seemed to be an echo of it that remained with him, warmth permeating his flesh like sun kissed skin. 

Dean sighed softly as he began rubbing his hands together in an attempt to dispel the sensation and bring himself back to reality. Only… When he was no longer focused on the sensation in his hand he was left to ponder the day’s events.

Today had been a strange day, even by Winchester standards. Between unwanted come ons and the reluctant deal with the devil, Dean’s head was positively reeling. 

He was not exactly sure how his life had turned out to be what it now was. Sure, his life had always been strange. He fought monsters and ghosts for a living, not exactly a nine to five pencil pusher job. But even with all the weird that was being a hunter how did it land on his shoulders that not only Lucifer and Amara kept trying to let them have their way with him, but apparently, Castiel wanted in on the action as well. 

He knew that Lucifer was quite certainly just trying to mess with his head. This was some kind of twisted game that he had concocted to entertain himself. It was disturbing for him on so many levels and he honestly had no real plan on how to remove himself from the situation. While he may not like it, it was critical for him to be here. They needed an archangel to defeat the darkness and unfortunately those were in very short supply these days. 

And as for Amara there was the mystic bullshit going on because of the Mark. Again, while he detested every moment that the influence of the Mark drew him to her - he could at least wrap his head around the motivation there. 

The one that he really had not expected was Cass. And granted, that information came from Lucifer and he really shouldn't believe any of it until he hears it straight from the Angel’s mouth. But he could not help but wonder about it, now that the idea had been put out there. Could not help but see in a new light all of the times that Cass had charged in to rescue him, each time that Cass chose him over heaven itself, each prolonged stare from those vividly blue eyes.

And what of his own feelings?

He had always been straight, some might even say a bit of a womanizer. 

But this new information made him wonder. Why was it that he too had never blinked at the decision to throw himself under the train for Cass? Hadn't he also chose to forsake the will of heaven to charge headlong into war with the renegade angel?

And could he really even deny that his heart often skipped a beat at the tell tale sound of fluttering wings?

Dean didn't know what to think. Instead he pushed the comforter downward with his feet, using far more force than what was realistically necessary before cocooning himself into the soft fabric and switching off his bedside lamp with an extremely exhausted sigh. 

He closed his eyes, letting the small traces of light and color flit around his vision before fading to blissful black. Maybe things will make a bit more sense in the morning. Better yet, maybe he will discover that it was indeed a hallucination. Hallucination would be a best case scenario, which said a lot for the predicament he had found himself in.

-o-o-o-

“For the stars of the heavens and the constellations thereof shall not give their light; the sun shall be darkened in his going forth, and the moon shall not cause her light to shine.” 

Dean glanced over quizzically at the angel who sat cross legged on the hood of the Impala, clutching a bottle of beer loosely, his face turned upward, moonlight glowing off of his pale cheeks, the wind causing his trench coat to billow about him slightly. 

He was truly a thing of grace, sitting there, completely oblivious to the cars rushing by on the freeway not far from the turnoff where they had parked; completely absorbed by the divine movement of celestial bodies twinkling high above their heads. 

Castiel turned to face him, the stars sparkling in his cerulean eyes as he calmly explained, “Biblically is a metaphorical representation of the calamities that were coming upon Babylon. The meaning evidently is, that those calamities would be such as would be appropriately denoted by the sudden extinguishment of the stars, the sun, and the moon. As nothing would tend more to anarchy, distress, and ruin, than thus to have all the lights of heaven suddenly and forever quenched, this was an apt and forcible representation of the awful calamities that were coming upon the people. Darkness and night.”

Castiel turned his body to face Dean, reaching out a hand which he gently rested on the hunter’s knee, giving it a small but reassuring squeeze, “While it was not meant to be taken literally, I cannot think of a more appropriate metaphor for the oncoming tide. But you need not be lost in the chaos. I shall be by your side as we face The Darkness. I would do anything. Whatever it takes to keep you safe, Dean.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Dean’s lips as he shook his head and quietly replied, “I don't need protecting, Cass. But I gotta admit that I do feel a hell of a lot better knowing that you will be there with me when shit hits the fan.”

Dean reached his hand out, gently resting it on Castiel’s. A familiar and strangely comforting sensation of near static electricity sank into his fingertips, delicately licking their way up his arm as he entangled his fingers with the angel’s, chuckling as a grin tugged at the corner of his lip.

His gaze lifted from their interwoven hands when he felt Castiel’s free hand come to rest on the back of his neck. A gasp escaped his lips when he recognized the smirk that now enveloped Castiel’s face. He tried to pull away, but was held firm where he sat. 

“Cass?” he managed to mutter weakly as the other man leaned forward, gently grazing their lips together, leaving a curious tingling sensation in their wake. 

“Not quite.” came Lucifer's voice, lust dripping off each syllable. The devil pressed forward, catching Dean’s mouth in a scorching kiss. 

Such pure carnal heat and desire flooded through the Hunter as his senses were overwhelmed by the sheer force of The Morning Star that he did not even realize the he had parted his lips, giving Lucifer access to deepen the kiss, his slick tongue leaving the taste of tantalizing cinnamon in his mouth. 

His head was swimming, he felt disoriented as his entire body began to positively hum at Lucifer’s touch. The devil had released his hold on Dean’s hand, instead letting it wander upward along his arm and into his chest where he found the lapel of Dean’s faded leather jacket. 

A soft moan left Dean’s lips as Lucifer pushed the jacket off of his shoulder and dipped his head down to possessively nip at the nape human's neck. 

“Wait.” came the halfhearted protest even as Dean tilted his head back to make room for Lucifer to continue. 

Lucifer pulled away enough to let his sapphire eyes rake hungrily over Dean’s face which had snapped forward with a subconscious and displeased groan at the loss of contact. 

He quirked his brow, a devious smirk playing on his face as he ran a hand down Dean’s chest and abdomen, finally slipping it beneath the hem of the human’s faded Led Zepplin shirt. Waves of energy seemed to radiate from Lucifer’s fingertips, causing Dean’s muscles to clench and his breath to catch in his throat. 

“Do you _really_ want me to stop?” he asked, his voice low and predatory. 

Dean felt certain for a moment that he would push Lucifer away, tell him colorfully exactly what he thought of him, but found instead that he shut his eyes tightly, leaning into the fallen angel’s touch and shook his head. 

“That is exactly what I thought.” mused Lucifer with a chuckle as he slid off the hood of the Impala, pulling Dean towards him so that the human’s parted knees came to rest on either side of his hips. 

Lucifer peeled the hunter’s jacket off of him, throwing it into the dirt at his feet before bringing his hands to the collar of Dean’s t-shirt, ripping the fabric open with one graceful and terrifying movement. A low growl rumbled from Lucifer’s chest as he took in the sight of his beautiful little plaything. 

He pressed one hand against Dean’s chest, pushing him back into the polished hood of his beloved Impala, ignoring completely any discomfort that the human may have expressed as he brought his head down, tracing the outline of muscles on Dean’s abdomen with swipes of his tongue and not quite gentle bites. 

Dean could not suppress the mewling sounds escaping his lips as his hips bucked upward against his will. His jeans had become uncomfortably tight, his painfully hard cock straining against the denim fabric and he was quickly growing desperate for release.

He brought his hands forward to unclasp the button of his pants only to have his wrists caught in a firm grip and roughly slammed down onto the hood of his car. He lifted his head to look down at the other man who was looking at him with narrowed sapphire eyes that had the fires of hell itself glistening behind them. 

“Do not touch.” he threatened softly, “You belong to me now, Dean Winchester. Be a good boy and you will be rewarded.” 

Lucifer once again lowered his head, gently nipping at the chiseled outline of Dean’s hip bone, causing the hunter to squirm beneath him. 

“All in good time,” he mused before adding darkly, “But not until you beg for it. When you are ready to let my name fall from your delicious lips and admit that you want it. That is when you will get your dues.”

The possessive statement only caused Dean to moan deeply, throwing his head back against the car as Lucifer released his bruising wrists and began to palm him through the tented fabric of his jeans. 

Dean brought his hands upward, knotting his fingers into his own hair as he bit down on his lip to suppress at least some of the, quite frankly, embarrassing sounds that were coming from him. 

Lucifer grinned wolfishly at the sight and began with precision to slowly unclasp the button of Dean’s pants with nimble fingers. So too were his movements as he unzipped his fly and began to ease the fabric off of the human's hips. He only pulled the fabric down just below Dean’s form buttocks, personally enjoying the thought of the clothing somewhat restricting his legs and providing a small discomfort for his hunter. 

He wrapped his hand around the base of the swollen muscle, beginning to move his hand at an agonizingly slow pace that was neither comfortable or pleasurable for the hunter who was quickly coming undone. 

Dean bucked his hips upward once again, trying to fuck into Lucifer’s hand desperately to gain more friction. While the action did cause the angel’s eyes to glisten momentarily in amusement he responded by tightening his grip around Dean’s manhood to an painful point, ceasing his movement all together. The pained cry from the hunter sent chills of list along Lucifer’s spine which he refused to act on; he had a point to prove here.

“You will take what I am willing to give, boy.” he hissed in a low voice before easing his grip and resuming the sadistically slow movement of his hand which did nothing to relieve the pressure in Dean’s groin. 

Dean gritted his teeth, barely concealing a snarl of contempt, barely managing to hiss the word “Please.”

“Pardon? I did not quite catch that, Dean.” came the smug reply as Lucifer dipped his head downward, grazing the tip of Dean’s shaft with a small flick of his tongue. Dean gasped loudly at the contact before practically shouting, “I said ‘please', you son of a bitch!”

The fallen angel rewarded his hunter with a few more light flicks of his tongue before purring, “That is a start. But you know what I want, Dean.”

Hatred churned in Dean’s chest, tears lightly stinging the corners of his eyes as he grew not only to hate the abomination that had his dick in his hand but also hating himself. The sound of his voice could only be described as total and utter defeat as he whimpered, “ _Lucifer_ … _please_ … Let me get off, I need-”

His words were lost as Lucifer sunk his mouth around Dean’s painfully swollen muscle, enveloping him in impossibly wet warmth. His hips bucked up involuntarily once more, fucking into the devil’s mouth, but this time Lucifer made no move to stop him from doing so, content with his pet’s show of submission. 

Dean was lost to himself, could not control the primal sounds breaking the night nor could he think of anything else but his need to keep this friction going. 

Lucifer worked his hand along the base of Dean's cock, humming almost merrily as he increased the pace of his bobbing head. The fallen angel brought his free hand forward, coating his fingers in the saliva that dripped along the hunter’s member before pressing them into the man with a chuckle that was vulgar and muffled. 

Dean lost track of the words that began to stream from him as Lucifer found the small bundle of nerves deep within him. Every curse word that he had in his very extensive vocabulary and the angel's name were shouted repeatedly between heavy gasps and moans as he bucked down onto Lucifer’s fingers - his desperation building as he felt the impending orgasm within him rising to the surface. 

Dean wrapped his hands tightly into the head of messy hair between his legs, thrusting with abandon into the devil’s mouth, his climax building, “Fuck! Fuck… please don't stop. Please, Lucifer… Lucifer I am going to -”

-o-o-o-

Dean awoke in a cold sweat, his cock throbbing painfully. He instantly brought his hand between his legs to begin palming himself through his boxers. The action simply did not do and soon he had pulled himself free and began expertly working himself over, the image of Castiel… Of Lucifer sucking him off, blue eyes shining devilishly up at him replayed on a loop in his head. 

It did not take long, he had already been so very close. Soon he was gasping as he coated his own abdomen and chest with slick cum, finally having the release that he so desperately needed. 

He could not honestly say how long he lay there, staring at the ceiling of his room and feeling himself sink into utter self loathing. 

Eventually the hunter found the strength in his legs to pull himself out of the tangle of blankets, slowly wiping himself off with his boxers which he discarded into the laundry basket before grabbing a new outfit and a towel resigning himself to shower to wash away the violation and guilt be felt before a day of heavy drinking to try and rid himself of whatever that whole thing was. 

He wrapped the towel tightly around his waist and pulled open his bedroom door to make the quick trip down the hall to the bathroom. 

He put his hand on the bronze door knob of the bathroom but felt his heart sink rapidly at the sound of fluttering wings. He froze in place when he felt an arm wrap around him and hot breath that smelled peculiarly like cinnamon fell against his neck.

“How did you sleep, Dean?” Lucifer’s voice was smug and triumphant. 

Realization crashed down on Dean as he suddenly recognized the “dream” for what it was. 

He had _literally_ been mind fucked. 

Dean wrenched open the bathroom door, pulling himself out of Lucifer's grasp before wheeling around to snap at the fallen angel, “ _You are a fucking asshole_ .”

Lucifer was left standing in the hallway, a wide grin on his lips as the bathroom door was slammed directly into his face. He put his hand delicately up to the side of his mouth and called through the door in a sing song voice, “I am glad to hear you are well rested. I will see you tonight for our drink, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( I hope You all enjoyed that little taste. ))
> 
> (( This chapter sort of developed a mind of its own. ))
> 
> (( Feel free to comment, critique or just say hi! ))
> 
> (( Really ~ comments give me life and encouragement ~ *hint hint* ))


	4. Bluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean tries his best to sort out his feelings about Castiel while Sam is far more concerned about protecting his big brother. 
> 
> Lucifer on the other hand... Could it be that all the fallen angel truly wants is a bit of compassion?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( Sorry this chapter took a little longer. ))
> 
> (( Hope you enjoy. ))

There was no possible way that Dean would be able to tell Sam about the dream he had. He would likely not tell another soul as long as he lived about what had happened in his sleep last night. 

But he also knew that he would never be able to forget a moment of it. 

Every fiber of his being felt violated, he felt dirty and used. It was a film of disgust that would not wash away no matter how hard he scrubbed, so he resigned himself to simply sink to the floor of the shower, letting the hot water cascade over his body. 

How could that have happened? How could he have not even fought back? 

He could make the argument that for him it had just been a dream, but in reality, was that true? 

It had been painfully real. Excruciatingly real, even. And it would not be the first time that an angel had manipulated his consciousness as he slept. But he had always had complete free will before. 

Had he truly made the honest choice for that to happen to him? 

It was all so fucked. He had definitely been coerced, lured into a false sense of security by Cass appearing to him initially. Which in itself raised too many questions. 

He had looked at Cass with unbridled adoration. Had felt himself flush, his heart beat rapidly when he took Castiel’s hand. 

It had felt good. It had felt right. 

At least for the few moments that it had lasted. 

And Dean could not stop the onslaught of thoughts that flooded to the surface that very clearly said that he wished that it had stayed Cas through the dream. Even if it was a similar theme he knew that he would not feel disgusted by himself for it. 

Maybe a bit weirded out and unsure of himself. But not disgusted. Not at all.

Castiel would never treat him like a piece of meat the way that Lucifer had. He would have been kind and wanted to make sure that Dean enjoyed it as much as he did. 

Dean hung his head in his hands as the water beat against the back of his neck and shoulders, imagining how different it may have been. 

He knew that imagining Castiel would not erase what Lucifer had done. But he found some comfort in it none the less. 

The way that Castiel’s curious eyes would have taken him in with appreciation and reverence rather than the cold and possessive treatment that he received. How Cas would have kissed him softly and tentatively, being just as nervous as he would have been. 

Dean shook his head, dispelling the images that flitted before his eyes. They were fruitless. Cas was not here and he was not even sure that the angel would want him after what Lucifer did. 

If Cas even felt that way to begin with. For all he knew that was just a manipulative ploy that Lucifer had used to throw him off balance and make him question what he knew. 

He was surprised when he felt his stomach knot at the idea that Castiel didn't feel that way. It was something that he had not even considered before yesterday. But now here he was grieving the thought of it not being true. 

What the hell was happening to him?

Dean let out a heavy sigh and pulled himself up. Staying in the shower all day was not going to make any of this go away. 

The Hunter did his best to completely bottle his emotions in a typical Dean Winchester fashion as he stepped out of the shower and dried off. His features had become cold and stone-faced as he pulled on his clean outfit of faded jeans and a worn t-shirt. 

His jaw dropped however when he looked into the mirror and realized that it was the Led Zeppelin shirt that he had been wearing in the dream. The same one that Lucifer had ripped off of him. He pulled it off quickly and threw it into the trash, positive that he had grabbed an AC/DC shirt when he left his room and absolutely content to discard one of his favorite t’s if it meant not being reminded about his ordeal. 

With a deep breath he turned on his heel and pulled open the door, intending to go back to his room to get another shirt, but he hesitated for just a moment on the threshold. The Hunter cursed himself internally for being such a coward and leaned forward, tentatively peeking his head around the corner to make sure there were no unwanted eyes to see him cross the hallway.

Luckily, the coast was clear and he was able to dash to his room with no incident and secure, instead, a plain black shirt which he covered over with a blue flannel and his faded leather jacket before strapping his guns to his hips. He could not help but find himself somewhat soothed by the multitude of layers and polished metal as though they formed some sort of armor around him. 

-o-o-o-

Dean had trouble bringing himself to eat the lunch that Sam had bought, which caused his brother’s brow to quirk curiously in his direction. Never once in his life had he seen Dean have to struggle through a double bacon cheeseburger from White Castle. 

If that had not been enough of a red flag, Sam was perfectly aware that something was horribly wrong with his brother when Dean only took one small bite of his cherry pie before depositing it into the rubbish bin. 

The younger Winchester chewed his bottom lip nervously as Dean left the room, having mumbled something about going to work on the Impala. He knew that his brother was stressed out and honestly could not blame him. Everything around them was spiraling out of control very quickly and they only had a snowball’s chance in Hell of winning this fight - even with Chuck on their side. 

Not only the end of humanity but the end of existence itself hung in the balance. And all they had going for them was a ragtag group of fighters. Even with their allies, were they going to be able to match the power of all of the archangels united that it took to seal away Amara before? 

Not only was he sure that the stress of the coming battle was weighing on his brother, but he was also certain that Castiel being sealed away, a prisoner inside his own head was part of the mood Dean was in. 

His brother had always tried to be blase about his relationship with Castiel. But Sam knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that excluding himself, Dean had never been closer to anyone. 

Sam could also relate quite personally to how it felt to have Lucifer keenly interested in you. He had, of course, been pursued for a far different reason. But he could not pretend that the archangel had not become rather sexualizing at times in the process. Particularly when he was trapped in the cage with him after his last stand and betrayal. 

Much of that time was a blur to him, but there are some things that are not so easily forgotten.

The hunter shook his head and made himself busy by cleaning up the mess left over from lunch, tossing Dean’s half eaten burger away. 

There was no one on the planet, not even his worst enemy, that he would wish a lustful Lucifer on and he hoped that they would resolve this war with The Darkness before Dean fell prey to it. 

But certainly Lucifer would not dare do anything of those sorts while he was under the same roof as Chuck, right? 

His stomach churned uneasily as he came to the realization that nothing was below the fallen angel. When that bastard set his sights on something there was absolutely nothing that he would not do to achieve his goals. 

And that meant very horrible things for Dean. 

The young hunter worried his bottom lip, laying out his options before him. He knew that he could not leave Dean to face this alone. Something had to be done before his brother was hurt irreparably. 

Sam took a deep breath, a grim and determined look on his face as he quickly threw open the door to the kitchen and jogged out and down the hallway. 

Dean had made light of his suggestion before, but if there was one person who might be able to get Lucifer to toe the line, it was Chuck . So, to protect his brother, Sam knew that he needed to enlist the aide of The Lord. 

Sam was well aware that he may suffer repercussions of his own for this interference. But this would not be the first time he had found himself on Satan’s personal Shit List.

-o-o-o-

Dean pulled open the door to the garage and walked past the rows of classic cars until his baby came into view. He fully intended to spend the majority of his afternoon drinking heavily while washing and polishing the sleek black exterior of his most prized possession, as if she, too, was in need of a scalding hot bath after the dream he had last night.

The Hunter let out a heavy sigh, rolling the sleeves of his over shirt up past his elbows as the bucket at his feet was filled with steaming water, bubbles rapidly forming on its surface. He was selecting an oversized yellow sponge from the shelf when he heard a faint rhythmic sound from the back of the garage where the Impala was parked. 

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

_Thunk_

He felt his stomach drop as he turned on his heel and saw none other than Lucifer, leaning casually against the trunk of his car, lazily tossing a tennis ball against the wall and catching it with ease. 

Could he not get even a moment's peace around here?

Dean slowly approached the vehicle, his bucket of soapy water in hand. He tried to walk with his usual stoicism and confidence, but knew that his embarrassment and shame shone through the guise. 

The hunter cleared his throat before asking gruffly, “For fuck’s sake. Don't you have anything better to do? Somewhere that is not here? And get your ass off my car.”

Lucifer turned to face Dean, who noticed then that the angel was wearing the Led Zepplin shirt that he had discarded earlier and was now casting a self-satisfied grin at him from across the Impala. Lucifer raised his hands in mock surrender, wiggling his fingers playfully and took a step back, away from the car. 

“My, my. Someone is a bit testy this morning. One would think that after such a good night's sleep you would be in a better mood.” Lucifer softly cooed as he leaned instead against the cement wall, never taking his eyes off the hunter. 

Dean pointedly ignored the angel, instead starting his task of washing his car, slipping hot soapy water across the hood before attacking it with the thick yellow sponge in his hand. 

A minute or so passed in silence, but the hunter was keenly aware of the hungry and wolfish gaze that was being cast his way. 

Dean had almost finished with the hood of the car when he suddenly felt a body press against his back, his head snapped up to find that Lucifer had indeed abandoned his position at the wall and was instead grasping his hand on top of the sponge, moving it to wash a small section of black paint and whispering huskily, “You missed a spot, Dean.”

The human pulled his hand out of Lucifer’s grip and twisted his way out from under the fallen angel, casting a menacing glare his way, his anger only rising at the smugly raised brow and bitten lip he was rewarded with. 

He wanted to curse and shout at the angel, express all of the hatred for him and self-loathing that had been created by these advances, but the voice that escaped him was instead weak and broke as he quietly said, “I don't want this.”

Lucifer chuckled very softly and said, “You could have fooled me. Last night you seemed more than eager.”

“That was a dirty trick and you know it.” Dean replied, casting his eyes to focus instead on their shoes, no longer able to meet Lucifer’s gaze. 

“I know.” 

Dean glanced up at the admission, truly surprised by both it and the incredibly soft smile that was now played about Lucifer’s lips. 

“It was a dirty trick, Dean. Perhaps even out of line. And I am sorry.”

“Excuse me?” Dean could not stop the confused and curious furrow of his brow as he looked at Lucifer who had now shifted his own gaze to the spot between their shoes. 

The fallen angel’s crystal blue eyes flashed upward and Lucifer softly replied, “I did not feel as though I had many options. Being here, in this vessel… Let's just say that it is hard not to see things and people in a certain new light. Namely, you. But I lack the skills and charm to be anything other than cruel, it would seem.” 

Dean stared at the angel, slack-jawed and confused. He had just received what seemed to be a genuine apology from the Prince of Darkness. But far from alleviating the worry he felt it seemed to only tighten the knot in his stomach. 

“Your soul burns so brightly that it is hard not to be mesmerized by it, Dean.” Lucifer ran a hand through his disheveled head of hair, mussing it even further before he added with an exasperated chuckle, “And with your dear friend’s influence constantly beside me, it made me thirst for humanity.” 

Dean shook his head and shot back at the angel, having found some strength and venom in his own voice, “Lucifer. You gotta know that after everything you have put my family through that there is no fucking way I am going to change my opinion of you, right?”

Lucifer let out a sigh which sounded legitimately discouraged, which in and of itself was enough to set Dean back in his heels. Out of all of the situations he had been thrust into in his life, standing with Lucifer and having a heartfelt conversation about their feelings was not one that he would have even put in the three hundred. 

“Perhaps that is true. However, I have known the Winchester’s to be incredibly forgiving of a person’s mistakes. Befriending demons and vampires. Even forgiving Castiel after he decided he was God, betrayed you and went on a killing spree...  
I suppose that I had merely given hope to the idea that you would see the strides that I did make to redeem myself, I made amends with my father, I have helped your team secure items they need to defeat the Darkness and my willingness to fight by your side and possibly die for your cause. But I realize that I have done poorly in demonstrating any legitimate change.”

Lucifer gave a small glance to the sponge in his hand which he had taken from Dean and shook his head at it before offering it back at arm’s length to the hunter. 

Dean tentatively reached out and took the sponge, his fingertips brushing against Lucifer’s for a fraction of a second, just long enough for some of that curious energy to snake its way through his hand. 

He looked down at the sponge now in his hands, hating himself a bit more as a wave of sympathy rushed through him. He knew how it felt to be viewed as a monster and to feel as though you cannot make up for your mistakes. The Mark of Cain, while it was gone, still left some pretty profound scars. He was unsure that he could ever make up for the horrible things he did while he was the Mark’s bearer and was even more unsure if he would ever truly deserve the forgiveness of those around him. 

But they were willing to give him a chance, even if he had gone Dark side. And boy, had he. 

“I am trying, though. I don't know that anyone truly understands that.” The hunter looked up just as Lucifer shook his own head with a grimace, a look that Dean knew well, a look that clearly said that the angel thought he had said too much. 

Lucifer put his hands in his pockets and plastered an obviously forced smile onto his lips before making his way towards the door, calling over his shoulder to Dean, “This was between us. No one will believe you if you tell them I was _feeling feelings_ anyway.”

As Lucifer walked away from the hunter he counted silently to three in his head and sure enough, as he thought the last number Dean’s voice sounded from behind him, “Lucifer, wait.”

A devilish grin split across his features as the pieces of his game dutifully moved into position. He quickly erased the smirk and replaced instead with a mild look of exasperation. “Yes?”

“I… I will see you for our drink tonight, okay?”

“If you would like to. You need not continue to accommodate me. I will hold up my end of the deal either way.” Lucifer replied slowly, as if measuring Dean’s response.

“It's fine. It's just a drink, right?” Dean replied with an understanding nod as he busied himself by soaking his sponge once again, silently assuring himself that it was indeed just a drink.

“Right. I will see you then, Dean.” Lucifer said with a relieved smile before he turned back on his heel and left the room. When he was finally out of the hunter’s earshot he could not suppress an amused laugh that bubbled out of his chest as he shook his head in disbelief and rolled his eyes. 

_These little cockroaches are so fucking predictable._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( Lucifer... you little shit. ))
> 
> (( Feel free to tell me what you think!! ))


	5. Drinking Games

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck steps in, attempting to put a stop, or at least a damper, on Lucifer's fun. 
> 
> But he has never been one to let anyone, especially Daddy, tell him what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( Hey guys, I am so sorry about the wait on this chapter! ))
> 
> (( The last few weeks have been crazy for me. Between GISHWHES, taking my clients on a river rafting trip and being viciously attacked by wasps the writing was fairly slow going. )) 
> 
> (( But this one is a little longer to make up for it. ))
> 
> (( Enjoy the shenanigans! ))

There were few things on the planet more awkward than overhearing an argument between your roommates. But overhearing it and knowing that you are the one directly responsible for it was a whole new level of awkward that he had not been quite prepared for. Especially when your roommates were The Lord God and Lucifer. 

The archangel and Chuck were currently bickering in the main foyer while Sam was some thirty feet away pretending to be doing research on The Darkness. The hunter had actively thought a few times about getting up and moving to another room, but did not want to draw unwanted attention to himself.

So, Sam Winchester found himself slowly sliding further into his chair, trying to appear as small as possible - which was quite a feat in and of itself, and hiding his face in the thick volume of text in his hands while eavesdropping on likely the strangest “talk” he had ever heard and would ever hear again in his life. 

“The human mind is fragile, Lucifer. You cannot manipulate it to serve your own desires. Particularly this mind.”

“That is not what I have been doing. And even if I was - don't you think that is the kettle calling the pot black, _dad?_ How many times have you interfered with the lives and minds of humans to serve your own selfish fucking needs?” the archangel snapped viciously and crossed his arms across his chest defiantly as he raised an almost threatening brow at his father. 

Chuck let out a sigh, bringing his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation, “When I have interfered with humanity it has been for the betterment of mankind. This is a different situation entirely, my interference was not for my own pleasure, but rather giving a guiding hand to my children.” 

Lucifer threw his head back and let out a loud burst of laughter, “Seriously? A guiding hand? No offense, but you are the last person in existence that anyone should go to for guidance. Your idea of justice and teaching is to destroy or lock away anyone or anything that does not agree with you and refuses to bow down without question. That is a pretty shitty parenting style, if you ask me.” 

“We have already discussed your feelings on that matter and came to an understanding, thus the reason you are still here, Lucifer. But that has nothing to do with the matter at hand. I am concerned about your inappropriate conduct with Dean.” 

Lucifer clicked his tongue impatiently and rolled his eyes at his father, “You are a total killjoy. But your point is moot. I have already talked to the human about this and he laid down very specific boundaries which I intend to bear in mind. He is perfectly capable of looking after himself.” 

Chuck gave the archangel a disbelieving glance which was returned in kind as Lucifer added, “We are all on the same team here. You, once again, have my allegiance. But I am, obviously, still in the process of learning to play nice with the other kids.” 

“Regardless of where your allegiance lies at the moment this type of behavior cannot go ignored and unchecked.” Chuck took a step forward, reaching his hand out as though to touch Lucifer’s brow. The angel however backed up with a venomous scowl. 

“And what exactly do you think you are doing? I won't let you put a leash on me because of some harmless banter.” 

“I have no intention of putting a leash on you, Lucifer.” Chuck said as he waved a hand, freezing the archangel in place. He then stepped forward and placed his hand very gingerly on his most beloved son’s face before adding, “I am merely removing the leash from someone else.” 

The room became uncomfortably bright as a white light erupted momentarily from Lucifer’s eyes and mouth. It only lasted a moment but when it dissipated and Sam became once again accustomed to the dim lighting he saw that the angel had collapsed to his knees, his breath coming in heavy gasps. 

“I cannot watch you constantly… but Castiel can. Perhaps sharing space with a far less complacent companion will further teach you how to ‘play nice’. I hope for your sake that it does and you will behave.” 

Lucifer looked up at his father, disdain and, if Sam was not mistaken, hurt on his face, “Or what? You will send me back to my room for another few millennia to think about what I have done?” 

“Let's hope it does not come to that and that this is an unnecessary precaution.” 

With that Chuck turned on his heel to exit the room, giving Sam a knowing glance as he left, a look that Sam seriously wished that had not been sent his way. Because when God had left he was left alone with Lucifer, who was glaring daggers in his direction. 

The archangel stood up, his legs shaking slightly beneath him for a few moments. When he had regained his balance the fallen angel met the hunter's tentative gaze and mouthed, “Tattle Tale.” 

Lucifer brought one hand up to his forehead, pressing his palm firmly against the skin as if to release some unseen pressure. After a few moments he dropped his hand and addressed Sam again, “I hope you know that Castiel is only going to be a detriment to our cause. He will just get in the way and it will be your fault for sticking your nose into your brother’s business when he did not need your help, _Sammy_ .” 

It took longer than he was proud of for the human to find his voice, but when he did he tried to sound as calm and collected as possible, “It’s _Sam_ . And you and I have very different opinions on that. Cass is an asset, not a detriment. And I would rather be a tattle tale than let you do anything like what you did to me, to my brother.” 

The archangel looked as though he was going to give a snappy comeback to the hunter’s response but there was a sudden shift, a softening of eyes as a very familiar presence appeared before the human, looking at him through the vessel. 

“Cas?” Sam called out hopefully, but as quickly as his friend had manifested, he was gone. The archangel once again had taken his place, an irritated laugh escaping his lips. 

“Guess again. It looks as though things just got a lot more interesting.” Lucifer mused, one finger pressed thoughtfully to his lips. 

**o-o-o**

_What is it that you want from Dean, brother?_

**_Only to have a bit of fun, Castiel._ **

_I do not believe you. The things that you said to him…_

**_Merely repeating your own thoughts. Those are things that you hold true, are they not?_ **

_… they are. But you said them as though they are your own. You are deceiving him, Lucifer._

**_Through my deception he now knows how you feel. And he is receptive of it. You saw the dream yourself. Are you complaining about how this has unfolded thus far?_ **

_… Yes. Dean is not a plaything. He is my friend. I do not appreciate you tricking him into this._

**_Your ‘friend’ could have, at any time, taken control and put a stop to it. He chose to continue. I will always give him a choice._ **

_You intend to continue this pursuit then? Even with me now watching your every move?_

**_Of course. It is not my fault that you are such a voyeur, Castiel. I am not one to be deterred by minor setbacks. And the way I see it, having you around may actually help my game along._ **

_I won't let you hurt Dean, Lucifer. If you hurt him, I swear I will smite you with all the powers of Heaven and Hell. Even if I must destroy myself to do it._

**_Now, now, Castiel. Don't be hasty. I am far stronger than you and you know it, that is the whole reason I am here. You know that you are no match for me, so do not make threats you know you cannot back up. And anyway, I have no intention of hurting Dean Winchester. At least, not past what he comes to ask for. And he will ask for it, brother._ **

_No. He won't._

**_Would you care to make a wager, Castiel?_ **

**o-o-o**

Dean had managed to get through most of his day without any further surprises. Though it did come off as strange to him how silent and empty the bunker was, but he found that he truly did not mind so much. 

It gave him some time to put on a Journey vinyl, plop down into his favorite chair and pour over some of the texts that they had managed to scrounge up with any mention of the darkness whatsoever. 

She had to have a weakness beyond what they knew of her off hand. There had to be something that could be exploited long enough for Chuck and Lucifer to manage to cram her sorry ass back into her cage. Dean felt a lump form momentarily in his throat at the thought of her being gone. But the hunter squared his jaw and focused his gaze more firmly onto the pages in his hands. He did not care about her. 

Not really, at least. It was some bullshit effect of the Mark that drew him to her. It is not how he felt in his heart, only how the residual magics tricked him into believing. But he also knew that he would never be able to be the one to hurt her, he was going to have to take a back seat for this one. 

Really he was a liability. 

But he would be glad to see her gone. The sooner she was locked bag into her cage of oblivion the sooner that he would figure out how to get Castiel back, kick Lucifer’s sorry ass out of the vessel and finally have his best friend back. 

Hopefully, however, after the heart to heart that he and Lucifer had the fallen angel would be on better behaviour. 

While there were things that were not okay, far from okay, really… he could not deny that he could empathize with some of the things that the archangel had said. 

The Mark of Cain had turned him into a full fledged Demon. He had done horrific and violent things while he was the bearer of the mark. He had hurt and killed so many people. And while some of them were not good people by any means, no one deserved to be butchered the way that Dean had done to those people. 

What was worse, _he liked it_ . The smell of death, the feeling of hot blood spattering into his face as he plunged the first blade repeatedly into human flesh. The high that he got from the kill. It was like a drug and he had truly loved his addiction. 

Things had changed though, the mark was gone from his arm. The euphoric feelings of bloodlust had dissipated. However, the memories would never fade. Nor would the guilt. 

He felt like a monster. 

But his family had been there to catch him when he fell. They forgave him for the horrific things he had done, not only to those people, but to them. He tried to kill Sam… Nearly did kill Cas. But they gave him another chance. A chance for redemption, which he was doing his best to do good by. 

Could he really deny Lucifer the same shot if he really wanted it? 

Lucifer had been an angel. God's most loyal, even. But he too had taken on the burden of The Mark of Cain. It twisted him in a way that only Dean could understand, now that Cain himself was gone. 

What might Lucifer have been if it were not for the mark? Dean was sure that he would have remained rebellious at heart, but rebellious does not mean evil. Castiel is a rebellious angel, after all. And there is not an evil bone in that dork’s body. 

Could it be that a Lucifer that was unperverted by the Mark of Cain would have been quite similar to Castiel? He could almost imagine the two of them rebelling against the will of Heaven together. Cas probably would have had a much easier time if he had an archangel on his team who shared his ideals. 

But regardless of what he may speculate Lucifer would have been like, the fact remained that the angel he was dealing with how was broken and dangerous, his grace warped and twisted by countless years of isolation with nothing better to do than plot revenge and stew in his own hatred. 

Dean brought his hand up, running it across his face wearily, becoming all too aware that he had been staring at the same symbol in his book for much longer than he cared to admit. He tossed the book to the side, pulling himself out of the chair and dismissing his research as a failure for the afternoon. 

The hunter made his way into the kitchen to grab something to eat but hesitated at the doorway when he saw an all too familiar trench coat clad figure already busy at work at the counter. 

He tapped his knuckles on the doorway to signal his arrival and was greeted by Lucifer lifting his head from whatever it was he was working on and flashing him a momentary smile. 

The archangel took a step back, revealing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich that was clumsily made, there was likely more preserves on the counter than the bread, but he picked up the small plate and offered it to Dean. 

“An olive branch, if you will. For your understanding. It is not much, but I do not eat, so cooking is not a skill I have mastered. And I am only drawing on Castiel's limited knowledge on the matter.” 

Dean hesitated, giving the sandwich a tentative glance as Lucifer assured him, “Go on. It is not poisoned or anything.” 

Dean reached out, taking the small plate and sloppy sandwich, mumbling a small acknowledgement and thanks before sitting at the table. 

He picked up the mutilated pieces of bread, sighing softly before biting into them. 

“Not bad.” he commented offhandedly, as he swallowed thickly. There was far too much peanut butter, likely a quarter of the small jar they had, but he was not about to chastise the angel for the one kind thing that he had done. 

“Your brow arches slightly when you lie.” Lucifer commented with a soft chuckle as he set a cold bottle of beer in front of Dean and took a seat opposite him with his own beer. “But I understand that you were trying to spare my feelings. Don't. I do not require pity.” 

“This sandwich sucks.” Dean responded almost immediately, drawing deep laughter from the angel. 

“Much better. Candor is far more preferable. You are welcome to throw that away.” 

Dean shook his head and took another bite before responding in a sticky voice, “Nah. Waste not, want not.” 

They sat in silence for a stretch of time as Dean ate, flushing the mess down his throat with occasional swigs of beer, Lucifer simply staring at him as he nursed his own drink. The hunter glanced upward as he finished the meal, noting the blue eyes which were boring into him. 

“Is it like… A requirement for angels to make every situation as awkward as possible? Seriously. Could you not?” 

Lucifer shifted his eyes downward, focusing on the moist rim of his beer bottle. “I was counting your freckles.” 

The hunter raised a brow before asking incredulously, “That is supposed to make it _less_ awkward?” 

Lucifer have a small shrug and went on to explain, “It is a habit of my host. He is… far more active than he has been, thus his habits are harder to break.” 

Dean turned his head away from the fallen angel and lifted his beer to his lips, taking a hearty swig of the amber liquid before giving a shake of his head and replying gruffy, “I need something stronger than this to deal here.” 

With that Dean pulled himself out of the chair and went to pull some curious brown liquid out of the cupboard as well as a small glass. He turned and held up the bottle, sloshing the contents and asked, “You want some Men of Letters moonshine, Satan?” 

Lucifer gave a small chuckle and replied offhandedly, “If you don't mind prolonging my presence with you, then I see no reason why not.” 

The hunter grabbed another glass, setting it in front of the angel who was now leaning forward, his arms crossed on the table in front of him. Within a few moments Dean had poured a healthy dose of the liquid into both glasses, downing his own and refilling it before setting the bottle down between them with a loud thunk. 

As he sat down Dean cleared his throat and with an air of awkwardness addressed his would-be companion, “This doesn't mean we are friends. Or that I even like you.” 

The hunter took a much more conservative drink from his glass, shaking his head slightly at the bitter taste, content to settle into an awkward silence, which he was denied by the archangel. 

Lucifer let out a small chuckle, looking away from the human as he pushed aside the small triumphant rush of emotion that surfaced from the angel trapped within his head. 

“I would not expect any different, Dean.” said Lucifer who had still not looked back at the other man, instead focusing his currently cerulean eyes on a seemingly interesting spot on the wall. “I am not asking for friendship. Merely a chance for some semblance of redemption.” 

“You have this one chance.” Dean replied quickly, once again lifting his glass to his lips before adding, “Don't make me regret it. And don't fuck it up.” 

The fallen angel shifted his gaze back to the human and gave a small half smile and a tentative nod as he picked up his own glass with both hands, gulping some of the alcohol as a child might down hot chocolate. Almost instantly his nose wrinkled and he swallowed thickly, sucking in a displeased hiss of breath. 

“Don't be a pussy.” came the hunter's snarky reply, the human’s grin hidden behind the glass which was already raised again to his lips. 

The brow that was quirked in Dean's direction was entirely unamused, but Lucifer lifted the glass once again, draining it of it's contents and placed the glass back on the table with more force than was necessary. 

“I am many things, _Freckles_ . But a pussy is not one of them.” the angel replied impishly once he had seemingly recovered from the burn of bitter drink in his throat. 

Dean rolled his eyes at the pet-name and continued to nurse his drink which was definitely strong, but he had been drinking so much lately that he seemed to not mind the burn at all. When he looked back up at the angel there was a mischievous glint in Lucifer's eye. 

Lucifer raised one hand to his lips, tapping his finger against them thoughtfully and asked, “How about we play a game, you and I? You think I am a pussy and I would like to prove you wrong.” 

“No way, man.” came Dean’s immediate response. “That is a horrible idea.” 

The denial brought a chuckle to the angel’s lips as he leaned forward, brow raised and his lower lip softly bitten. “What if we were to make it more beneficial to you? You play this game with me and win - your reward will be an entire afternoon devoid of my presence. Your angel is getting strong enough that he could pilot for a while, if I chose to let him, and I would - if you placate me with one game.” 

The hunter felt his heart flutter in his chest, his jaw momentarily going slack, resulting in a small mouthful of liquor being dribbled onto his shirt. He quickly brought his free hand up to wipe away the spilled liquid. 

There was hesitation, a vice-like grip in his stomach that threatened to expel the drink and food that he had managed to consume. But at the same time, the thought of having Castiel back, even for a little while urged him forward. So it was with a tentative resolution that he responded, “What game?” 

Lucifer matched the hunter’s hesitation with an eager smile, drawing a shiny quarter from within the deep pocket of Castiel’s trench coat, flipping it through his fingers dexterously. 

“I trust you know the rules of this game? You can toss the coin with or without bouncing it on the table. If you choose to bounce it, the other may attempt a catch to avoid the drink. If you try to catch the coin that has not bounced on the table, a penalty drink will result.” Lucifer mused through his smirk, carefully measuring the human’s reaction, taking in everything from the slackened grip on his glass to his knitted brow. His own eagerness growing at every single sign of weakness and submission from the human in front of him, his anticipation fed by the bundle of worry that was the angel within him. 

_Don't do it, Dean. Don't encourage him._

The voice was small and only heard by the fallen angel who focused momentarily to quiet Castiel, responding with a satisfied : 

**_You will get your chance with him tomorrow, but only if you behave and remain silent, brother. You must allow him to make his own choices._ **

Dean nodded briefly before snatching the coin out of the air as Lucifer deftly flipped it towards him. Before he even had time to examine the coin or ponder the fact that it had already been squirrelled away in Lucifer’s pocket, the angel had already begun pouring drink into both glasses. 

“Whenever you are ready, Freckles.” he cooed softly, reclining slightly into the hard chair that supported him. 

Before Lucifer had even finished his sentence Dean had tossed the coin through the air, resulting in a small splash as it landed in the center of the Devil’s glass, quickly sinking to the bottom. 

Lucifer raised his brow curiously before pulling the coin from his glass. “Well done…” he remarked as he took a deep breath and downed the drink in a single gulp, another twisted look of disgust dominating his features as he refilled his cup. 

The fallen angel let the coin fly, bouncing it off the table in front of the hunter, who quickly snatched it before it passed the rim of his glass. Without missing a beat Dean sent the coin back through the air and directly into Lucifer’s glass. 

“You suck at this game.” Dean remarked as Lucifer again went through the motions of emptying his glass, this time with a soft gag which the angel hid behind his hand. 

Lucifer tilted his head to the side slightly, flashing an irritated glance at the human before tossing the coin directly into the hunter's glass with a flip of his thumb. “Being an alcoholic is a learning curve. I cannot help that you have far more experience.” 

And so the game went on, the large jug of homemade liquor steadily diminishing as more shots were made on both sides of the table. Though as each round passed both players began to lose the finesse they had seemed to possess, the human far more quickly than the angel, soon both men had to clumsily begin fetching the quarter as it bounced off the table and across the room. 

Each failed attempt resulted in laughter and half assed jeers that grew in volume and creativity as the game progressed. Twice Dean even had to fish a new coin out of his pocket as their game piece rolled under the refrigerator where it would remain, forgotten, for years to come. 

Through one such interval of laughter Lucifer tossed his quarter haphazardly, sending the small disc of metal directly into Dean’s face. The hunter howled in laughter, clumsily reaching up to grasp his eye as he leaned forward to grab the quarter off the table. 

“I'm sorry, Dean.” the angel commented through his own chuckle. 

Dean quirked his brow as he made a lazy and failed attempt at sending the coin back at Lucifer’s cup. In a slurred and curious voice the hunter replied, “It's still weird hearin' you 'polagize for… Well, anythin'. A quarter to the eye is what gets a “sorry” from the Devil?” 

Lucifer’s brow knitted as he processed the hunter’s question. He finally looked up at Dean, his cerulean eyes slightly glazed as he softly admitted, “I think that may be the first time that my hurting someone has ever been accidental…” 

Lucifer slowly fished the coin out of his drink, looking into the depths of the liquid as he added, “And you may be the only person who would ever accept an apology from me anyway.” 

“Hey,” Dean snapped, pointing a threatening finger at the angel. “No chick flick moments. Drink up and don' be a bitch.” 

Lucifer looked quite surprised for a moment, but gave Dean an approving nod, “I shall try to refrain from ‘being a bitch’. I would not want to offend your manly sensibilities.” 

The fallen angel took a moment to take in the hunter across from him, noting the rosey pigment that had crept into Dean’s face from the amount of drink the human had in his system. The flush that accentuated the boy’s freckled cheeks and made the green in his eyes incredibly vivid, in spite of the glossy haze across them. He noted too the way that the corners of Dean's eyes crinkled as he laughed deeply. 

He noted most of all the rush of adoration that the sight caused the rebellious angel inside him. A rush that brought an almost sadistic satisfaction to him. 

**_That smile is for me, Castiel. That smile, that laugh. It is mine. And he will be too._ **

The rush he had felt was quickly replaced with unbridled rage. It was a feeling that nearly made him purr. He managed to contain the impulse however, letting it manifest instead as an amused smirk which was cast in the Hunter’s direction. 

He sent the coin in his hand towards Dean once again, landing it with a thunk into the hunter's glass. 

Dean quickly emptied his glass and moved to refill it, only to discover that their supply had practically run dry. He took a pull directly from the bottle, emptying it of the remainder of drink before he shook the bottle in Lucifer’s direction, asking smugly with a pronounced slur in his voice, “Ss- so - who wins, Satan?” 

Lucifer in turn leaned forward, folding his arms in the table and propping his chin on them, “You can be the winner of this little game. I merely wanted the company, so I won in my own way as well.” 

Dean made a clumsy yet victorious pumping motion with his fist before tossing the empty bottle in the direction of the garbage can, missing horribly. 

Both men startled as the glass shattered on the floor, shards of glass flying across the tile. 

The hunter muttered some colorful words as he moved to begin cleaning up the glass. Lucifer could have quite easily snapped away the mess, but elected instead to pick it up by hand alongside the human. 

A wicked grin formed on his face as he heard the sound he had been hoping for, a sharp intake of breath from the Winchester as Dean recoiled his hand away from a particularly sharp shard which he had grasped too tightly. Lucifer quickly replaced the grin with a look of mild concern and tossed his own handful of glass into the bin, moving directly next to Dean to inspect the wound. 

It was actually rather deep, blood oozed freely from it and under normal circumstances it certainly would have required stitches. However, the fallen angel reached his hand out towards his companion and asked, “May I?” 

Dean was grasping his bleeding hand firmly and cast a tentative glance at the extended fingers, his eyes moving momentarily upward to the angel’s face. The face of his best friend, wearing a look of concern that was familiar and yet vastly different than any he had seen before. The features themselves were the same, but the awkwardness and air of confusion that typically surrounded Castiel was replaced instead with confidence and, for lack of a better word, grace. 

Dean slowly held out his hand, the blood dripping into Lucifer’s open palm as the angel gingerly took hold of him. The angel placed two of his fingers along the open wound, scarcely applying any pressure, instead letting the radiating warmth of healing magics enter into the human's hand and perhaps adding a little extra to the spell to knock the human slightly further off balance. 

Dean felt as though he had sunk into a warm bath, the effects of the healing spell seemed so much more profound to him in his inebriated state. The rush of static and warmth and the smell of cinnamon washing over him in an instant. The smell reminded him of a bakery in winter, filled to the brim with delicious treats. The heat brought to mind sitting at a fireplace, wrapped in a blanket as a storm raged on outside. 

A dopey grin formed on the hunter’s face as a wave of exhaustion hit him like a brick wall. While the sensations were pleasant, the magic was draining on him nevertheless. 

“You're kinda like Chris’mus…” Dean muttered almost incoherently, logic and reasoning fighting a losing battle against magic and alcohol as he looked up at the cerulean eyes of the archangel next to him. 

Lucifer’s eyes widened in surprise momentarily before he burst into legitimate laughter. The angel kept a loose grip on the hunter's hand as he asked through his mirth, “I'm like Christmas? What does that even mean, Dean?” 

Dean’s laughter mingled with Lucifer’s and he replied groggily with a shake of his head, “I don' even know... Smells like it... warm 'n stuff." 

Dean was so lost in the haze that he barely realized that his hand was still in Lucifer’s, nor did he register that he had begun to drag his thumb rhythmically across the archangel’s fingers. 

Lucifer was not about to stop the hunter’s small act of intimacy, but rather, he very slowly and subtly moved closer to him, until the human could feel the warmth of his breath as he chuckled. 

The archangel but his bottom lip momentarily before speaking softly, somewhat awkwardly and in a low register that was _not quite_ his impersonation of Castiel but was close enough that there was a sense of familiarity, “Thank you for spending this time with me, Dean.” 

The hunter groggily looked up, his hazy emerald eyes doing their best to focus on the deep cerulean pools that he had so long associated with his best friend. The timber of the angel’s voice made his heart practically somersault in his chest and his tongue felt suddenly thick and heavy in his mouth. A sharp pang of longing coursed through him, a longing for Castiel. 

It was a feeling that was not new, he had felt it many times before where the rebel angel was concerned, but he only very recently had come to terms with what it truly meant. It was far more than the love he had for the rest of his wayward little family. It was profound and no amount of his denial could mask it anymore. 

The feeling was so strong that he forgot for a moment that the angel before him was merely wearing his friend’s face; all he saw was Cass. 

In a single motion that was clumsy and uncoordinated Dean surged forward, his lips covered the angel’s in a forceful and sloppy kiss. 

Lucifer was taken back by the kiss, he had honestly thought that he would have needed to lay a bit more groundwork down to ensnare the hunter, but he could not say that he was disappointed in the least. With a victorious purr in the back of his throat the archangel returned the kiss, lifting his hand to cup Dean’s jaw, the pad of his thumb running across the stubble of his unshaved cheek. 

Dean’s gusto grew and he slipped his tongue between the angel’s parted lips, taking in the taste of bitter alcohol mingled with cinnamon spice as Lucifer met the action with matched eagerness. 

The taste was wrong. Not unpleasant… But wrong. Castiel’s kiss should taste like rain, honey and spring. 

Dean slowly pulled away, his brow knit in confusion, his freshly healed hand raised to touch his lip before mumbling the incomplete thought, “.. Tastes like…” 

Lucifer kept his hand resting gently on the hunter’s cheek, stroking it softly for a moment before helpfully supplying, “Like Christmas?” 

The human nodded briefly, his unfocused eyes looking up at the archangel, realization flaring up in their hazy depths, even as darkness began to creep around the edges of his vision. The room around him seemed to spin and he was falling forward. 

As the world quickly faded into black and he crashed into the archangel’s chest Dean could only think, _‘son of a bitch’_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (( Hope you had fun! ))
> 
> (( As always, please feel free to comment or critique. ))
> 
> (( Comments sustain my life force, yo. ))

**Author's Note:**

> (( I hope you enjoyed the brief introduction. ))
> 
> (( Please feel free to comment, review and even just say hi! ))


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